Time Flies
by harikja6
Summary: One-shot chapter about Aragorn and his children. He struggles to look after them, now that Arwen is gone, but he can't escape the fact that they are growing up and may not need him anymore. Story a lot better than summary.


Time Flies

A/N: This is a little one-shot story that I thought up. It's about how parents complain that their kids grow up too fast, and it involves Aragorn and his two kids (I know he has a son named Eldarion, but I made up the girl's name). Also, in this Arwen is dead, but he still communicates with like a spirit version of her, or something... it's hard to explain. I got the idea from my dad, who always makes me feel guilty because of me and my brothers growing up too fast, but sometimes that just can't be helped. This story is kind of modernised, so it's like any other modern-day morning, except in Middle-Earth.

Disclaimer: I do not own LOTR, or any of the characters. I just own Aragorn's daughter, because I made her up (even though I think he does have a daughter, eventually, but I don't know her name!)

~X~

Aragorn sighed, rubbing his hand against his temple. Ever since Arwen had passed he'd been having trouble trying to care for his two children by himself. He wished he was living back in the good old days, when his beautiful wife was still around to help him. He could remember the wonderful times in the cold evenings, with all four of them curled around the fire place, Arwen by his side and his two children snuggled in his lap, listening intently as he told them the exciting story of the brave Frodo Baggins and Samwise Gamgee.

He could just imagine how their little voices used to cheer at the end. "What happened to Frodo, dad?" his son, Eldarion, would ask him.

"No!" cried his little daughter, Erulissë, "I want to hear more about Sam! Frodo couldn't do anything without him!"

"Yeah, he could!"

"No, he couldn't!"

Aragorn could sit there for hours, laughing happily as his children playfully argued themselves to sleep.

But things weren't at all like that now. Ever since they had grown up, they never wanted to hear any of his stories. It seemed like they didn't care anymore.

"Eldarion! Erulissë!" he called once more, his voice cracking from the strain and weariness. "Get down here, or we're going to be late!"

"Yeah, yeah, in a minute!" Eldarion's huffy voice came back. There was the sound of forty oliphants stomping their way down the stairs, and Eldarion burst into the room. His raven-black hair was pulled back into a short ponytail, and his clothes were scruffy. He had big bags under his eyes – obviously been staying up far too late past his bedtime, Aragorn thought, rolling his eyes.

Aragorn took his son's head in his hands, and brushed back his hair, studying his face. He licked his thumb, and wiped a smudge of dirt off his cheek.

"Aw, dad!" Eldarion protested, wriggling out of his father's grip. "I'm not a child anymore! I can wash by myself! I don't need your spit all over my face!"

"Well, you obviously can't wash by yourself, considering how you look now!"

Aragorn laughed as Eldarion grumbled and slumped himself in a chair, helping himself to all the toast that was on the table.

"Whatever," he muttered, taking a bite out of one of the pieces of toast.

"Oy, leave some for your sister!" Reluctantly, Eldarion put one piece – the smallest piece – back on the table, and tucked into the rest. "Where is your sister, anyway? She should be down here by now!"

"Getting her ugly face ready for school," he replied, and received a light thump round the head.

"Don't be rude."

"Well, it's true!"

Aragorn sighed again. What was he going to do with his children? Were all teenagers like this, or was he just cursed for eternity with unresponsive, messy, rebels for kids?

"Erulissë!" he tried yelling up the stairs again. "Get down here, before Eldarion eats us all out of house and home!"

"Okay, okay! Jeez, chill, dad!" Erulissë shouted back down. He especially hated how all their conversations took place between a flight of stairs, screamed up and down so loudly that it was a wonder how half of Middle-Earth didn't hear them.

The deafening racket of another bunch of ballet-dancing oliphants bounding down the stairs and Erulissë came in. She was a year or two younger than Eldarion, but acted and dressed as if she were twenty. She was always done up to perfection, and spent hours in the morning getting ready. Aragorn honestly couldn't understand why it took so long to get ready in the morning, but whenever he asked about it, the response was always, "Ugh, never mind, dad, you just don't understand."

Erulissë looked at the meagre amount of food left on the table and immediately began shouting about it. "Dad! Eldarion ate all the food, and now I'm going to go hungry! And it's all you're fault you stupid cave-troll!" she added on the end, aiming the insult at her brother.

Eldarion stuttered innocently. "What? I don't know what you're talking about, sis! Of course I left you some food! I would _never_ let my darling little sister go hungry!" he pointed to the tiny slice of bread left on the table.

Aragorn groaned, wondering hopelessly to himself when he would ever get just a simple moment of peace and quiet in his house. "Don't worry, Erulissë, I'll make some more."

"Ew, no thanks! I don't wanna get fat from eating _that_ grub!"

"It's just toast. You don't get fat from toast, dear."

"You just don't understand, dad," she snorted back.

Aragorn bit his lip, trying not to get angry. "It seems like I never understand you kids," he uttered under his breath. "Now, hurry up, you've got to go to school!"

"Yeah, yeah, we _know_, dad!"

Once Eldarion had finished his breakfast (aka, half of the food supply in the entire house. Another thing that Aragorn wondered about – why did teenage boys eat so much?) while Erulissë stood there scowling at him, and they were finally ready to go. He shoved their bags into their arms, and ushered them out the door.

"Bye, have a good day at school!" he called after them, but didn't get a response.

His gaze lingered on his beloved children as they left, until eventually they were out of view. Then – with another great, heaving sigh – he collapsed, exhausted, into one of the dining room chairs.

"They grow up so quickly, don't they?" said a familiar, soothing voice, and Aragorn looked up. Arwen was standing beside him, her ghostly form shimmering. She placed a hand on his shoulder and rubbed it, trying to calm his frazzled nerves.

"They do," he replied. He looked into his wife's dark eyes and saw the spitting image of Eldarion. His son reminded him so much of Arwen, and whenever he had a good chance to look at him properly (which wasn't so often now that Eldarion was always off with friends, or fast asleep) he felt a pang of sad emotion. He missed Arwen so much.

Aragorn slid his hand into Arwen's and entwined their fingers together. She smiled at him sadly, missing him too.

"I'm so sorry I had to go," she muttered, bringing his hand up to her once-warm lips and kissing it lightly. "I would have stayed if I could, but..." she paused, pursing her lips and trying to decide how to phrase her next words. "Fate had other ideas for me."

"It wasn't your fault. I never blamed you for it."

"I know you didn't, my love. I know you didn't." She looked up again, her thick dark hair, which Erulissë had inherited, tumbling in front of her pale face and eyes. Drawing his hand from hers, Aragorn reached up to push it behind her ears. He watched her as she stared at the door, where Eldarion and Erulissë had left from.

"I miss those times too," he said, voicing what they were both thinking. "When we used to be a proper family. Now it just seems like they have drifted away from me."

Arwen furrowed her brow, cupping her husband's cheek in her white hand. "That's not true, my dear, don't say things like that!" she berated him softly. "They still love you, of course they do! You're their father."

"Which means that they're forced to love me, whether they like it or not." He laughed, and Arwen grinned, glad that some of the colour and happiness was returning to her loved one's face.

"Of course, my dear. They will never stop loving you, no matter what happens." She hesitated, hating to say the inevitable. "I have to go now," she told him, after a moment of forlorn silence. He knew that it had been coming too.

"Do you have to go?" he asked her, but he already knew the answer.

"Yes, dear, I'm afraid so."

"But I don't want you to leave." He kept trying to convince her to stay, but he knew that nothing he could say would stop her. She had passed on and wasn't meant to be in this world. He just had to let her go.

"I don't want to leave either... but I don't belong here. I must go. But please, remember this," she turned his head so that they were facing each other directly, her loving gaze staring directly into his, "I will always love you, and so will our children. Please, my dear Aragorn, promise me you will never forget that."

"I promise."

Tears sparkled in Arwen's eyes, and a couple trickled down her ashen cheeks, splattering onto Aragorn's hand. Soon, Aragorn realised that he was crying to.

Arwen pressed her lips against his, and Aragorn never wanted the feeling to end. But he could feel her body fading, her touch weakening by every second.

"Goodbye, my love," she whispered, the heavenly sound of her voice echoing through the air. When Aragorn next opened his eyes, she was gone.

"Goodbye."

~X~

A/N: Also, the next chapter of _Elwin – an Elf's Love_ will be out soon! Sorry I keep taking so long, but I've had a lot of holiday homework!


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